The Late Spike Spiegel Blues
by SabineLaGrande
Summary: AU. What if the bullets that Shin took in The Real Folk Blues Part Two ended up in Spike? RFB 2 spoilers. SxF. Complete, for now.
1. No Turning Back

A/N: This is technically the second chapter of this fic. The first chapter was removed while it was a one-shot over other people's stupidity, and I don't want to chance putting it up again. It's not really important that you read it, but it's at my livejournal, sabinelagrande. Check the memories under the keyword "The Late Spike Spiegel Blues." Creative, huh? The lyrics to all the title songs can also be found there. Enjoy.  
  
-  
  
Now Julia was dead. Really and truly dead.  
  
But it wasn't... right. He didn't feel any different than he had before. Why, by anything that was holy and listening, didn't he feel any different? He decided that he had been right, that he was just a dead man. The last three years were an accident. All this, her death, was just things being set right.  
  
So now he had to find Vicious. He wasn't even quite sure why. It was just the next step. Spike didn't care whether he lived or died. He didn't even care if Vicious lived or died. But he sure as hell was going to be ready.  
  
And that was why he walked into the Syndicate like he was on a military operation. They should have expected it, and maybe they did- they were the ones who trained him how to do it properly. Cool and calm through the doors, then all bullets and grenades.  
  
In the back of his mind, he almost felt sorry for the people he had to kill. Or rather, he would have, if he had any feeling left. He didn't give a damn if they had decided to be in the Syndicate. They were all low level functionaries, just foot soldiers. They probably didn't even know who he was, though he knew they'd all heard his name. Who hadn't heard whispers of the legendary Spike Spiegel, the one that got away, that some wanted dead and others saw as a savior? But now they were dying at his hand, no matter what they thought of him. They died anonymously, before they even knew they were pawns. They were just in the way of the universe righting itself.  
  
He fought his way up the escalator, then blew it up. There. No going back. He was certain now that he was never going to leave that building. He took the elevator as high as it would go, changing clips.  
  
Shin was right behind him. He seemed almost out of place, a real person in the midst of all this. They fought- if you could count almost mindless shooting as fighting- their way through the building. With every step, Spike could feel himself strengthening, getting closer and closer to Vicious and the end of all things. He knew that the final showdown was coming, the ultimate test of whether this was all a dream.  
  
Except that it never came. 


	2. Dream a Little Dream of Me

A bullet came out of nowhere. Shin saw it and moved. Spike missed it, and it caught him just below his heart. Then another came, sinking into his stomach. Then another came at his head. His world spiraled into blackness.  
  
Then he was in a soft bed in a room filled with light. It was warm, but a breeze blew through the curtains. A woman leaned over him and lifted his damp hair out of his eyes. She smelled of roses.  
  
"Julia," he whispered, but she didn't respond. "Julia!" he shouted, but she didn't listen. He reached his hand up to touch her, but it went right through her.  
  
Then the blackness closed around him again.  
  
He was bound to a rock on the edge of a cliff. A giant vulture swooped out of the sky. It was Vicious, he knew somehow. The bird alit next to him. Without a word, it went to work with its claws and beak, ripping his stomach open, devouring him. Then it flew off. Spike glanced down at his stomach. It was whole again.  
  
Then it was black.  
  
Spike and Jet were on the Bebop talking. One of his bonsai trees came to life and joined the conversation. They were debating whether or not the bounty system was becoming outdated.  
  
Black.  
  
He was eating bell peppers with beef. It was delicious. He had seconds.  
  
Black.  
  
Spike was with Faye on a bridge over a calm lake. They were laughing. He put his arm around her and kissed her on the cheek. She jumped into the lake. He dove in after her.  
  
Black.  
  
He knew he was finally awake for real when he felt a pain in his stomach. The dreams- were they dreams?- didn't come with pain. He realized he was starving.  
  
Spike's eyelids flickered open. Wait. Something was wrong here. His eye- he blinked a few times. His eyes were the same. And that wasn't right. He shut his left eye. He could see the room. He opened it and shut his right eye. Still the room.  
  
So they'd finally done it. His false eye was gone. No past in front of him anymore, just the unadulterated present. He didn't know whether to be angry or appreciative. For the moment, he stuck with bemused.  
  
He looked around, trying to acquaint himself with the feeling of it. He hadn't seen like this in years.  
  
What he saw didn't really surprise him. It was a hospital room, with Faye passed out in a chair beside him. Good. Maybe she'd get him some food.  
  
"Faye," he said. It came out as a hoarse whisper. How long had it been since he talked last? She awoke with a start.  
  
"Oh, it's you," Faye said, trying to keep her voice casual. "I was starting to wonder if you ever going to bother waking up."  
  
"Save it," he said, smiling despite himself. God it was good to hear a familiar voice again, even if it was taunting him. "Get me some food?" 


	3. Dead Man Blues

And then, of course, Shin came to visit. The nurse told him that his darling younger brother (Spike thought for a moment that he had amnesia) Mr. Shin, the one who had arranged to pay for his treatment (that explained it), had come, and wouldn't he like to see him? Spike nodded.  
  
Faye wouldn't leave. She muttered something about protecting him. Spike shook his head and let her stay. If Shin wanted him dead, he'd have left him to die or just killed him outright. But Shin was too honorable, too idealistic for that.  
  
Shin came in with a brace of Syndicate guards, huge men, who looked quite uncomfortable carrying flower arrangements for Spike. They bowed to Faye, who looked at them with distrust and put her hand to her gun.  
  
After the requisite formalities, Shin told him about everything that had happened that night- how Spike had fallen after being shot in the eye, how some of the men loyal to Shin got him to a hospital, how Shin had gone on to face Vicious and won. Spike scratched his head. That didn't seem right. Guess he wasn't the only one who could kill Vicious. He wondered idly if the reverse had really been true- he had taken a bullet to the head and lived, after all.  
  
Then, in quiet dignified tones, Shin begged him to come back and take his rightful place. Spike, of course, declined. It had taken him a hell of a long time to extricate himself from the Syndicate. And he'd lost- he didn't want to think about her right now. Instinctively, his eye flickered shut, but she wasn't there.  
  
With a deep bow, Shin started to leave.  
  
"Is there anything else I can do for you?" he asked.  
  
Spike thought. "Tell them I'm dead." This got the reaction he wanted, a mix of shock and confusion. "Tell them I died valiantly, or that I ran away and was shot in the back, I don't care. You can even tell them that you had me killed, if it gets you support. But I want out for good."  
  
Shin sighed and shook his head. "Anything for you, Spike." He left the room, flanked by his bodyguards. Spike folded his hands behind his head, a little pleased with himself.  
  
"Why did you do that?" Faye asked him, confused.  
  
He looked up at the ceiling. "You wouldn't understand," he replied, smiling. Then the nurse walked in, before Faye could attack him. 


	4. What'll I Do?

There was little fanfare for his homecoming to the Bebop, even though he'd been gone for almost two months. There was, however, bell peppers with beef, with real beef this time. Jet had actually brought in a bounty while he was gone. Faye fussed over him a little. It wasn't like her, but he let her do it anyway. Whatever made her happy and kept her off his back.  
  
Now he was lying on his bed, trying to sleep but failing miserably. He hadn't really wanted to come back here, but there wasn't anywhere else for him to go now that she was gone. It was here or the Syndicate, and, for reasons that maybe he didn't even understand, he wouldn't go back there.  
  
Spike hadn't thought about her, hadn't even uttered her name since that night. It wasn't supposed to end like this. Vicious was dead. They were supposed to be together. If she was dead, then he should be dead. For all the Syndicate knew, he was. That was a start? But the start of what? He didn't even really understand now why he had done it.  
  
It just wasn't supposed to be like this. Something was wrong about it all. All he ever wanted was to live and to be with Julia, just because she made him happy. He didn't know how it had gotten turned into this ridiculous melodrama. But it had, and at the very least he deserved some kind of ending. But what could he do? Just lay down and die? That wasn't him. A nagging voice in his head kept throwing his words at him, telling him that there was nothing he could do for a dead woman.  
  
And then there was Faye. He didn't know why she even figured into his thoughts at the moment, and it bothered him.  
  
Spike stood up. He needed to clear his head. Maybe a walk around the ship would help. He walked over and opened his door. Faye was sitting next to his doorway, asleep. He shook his head. Did she do this every night? There was a time when he would have been mad at her, but he just scooped her up in his arms.  
  
Faye was just a child, in the middle of a bunch of things that she really couldn't hope to understand. Spike thought about how her life should have been. If she was frozen, her family had to have been rich. She could have been Daddy's little girl, married some impossibly wealthy man, and never had to worry about a thing. Instead she was a rather unsuccessful bounty hunter and gambling addict.  
  
He was starting to understand the way Faye saw things. Spike and Jet were all she had left, and she'd be damned if she was going to lose them. He couldn't blame her. Home was supposed to be her way out, but it wasn't. Vicious was supposed to be his way out, but he wasn't. It was like Judgment Day had come, but they were still trapped in Purgatory.  
  
Spike laid her down in her bed and pulled her blanket up over her. She didn't stir, just turned on her side and curled up slightly. He walked out of her room and shut the door behind him. 


	5. Love Me Till the Sun Shines

A/N: Thanks to everyone who likes the story thus far and has reviewed. Special thanks go to Brigidforest for harping on my grammar (cause somebody's got to do it, I sure as hell don't) and everyone who asked for longer chapters (hand to God, I am trying, this one is a little longer) for getting me off my lazy ass.  
  
-  
  
Spike didn't let on to Faye that he knew about her little vigil. The next day at lunch, he noticed her giving Jet funny looks, but she didn't say anything. He figured it was just as well.  
  
After lunch, Jet called up the latest bounty information on the computer, but not before Spike got a look at the search he had been running. Radical Edward. So he did miss her. A lost cause though- if Ed didn't want to be found, she wouldn't be. Jet perused the list of bounty heads.  
  
"Nothing but small fry," he said, staring at the screen. "Most of them look like more trouble than they're worth. But it doesn't matter." Jet leaned back and lit up a cigarette. "We've still got enough money left from the last one, since someone hasn't been able to spend it all yet." Spike shook his head and walked out of the living room. Sure enough, it started- Faye and Jet were bickering. It was almost comforting in its familiarity.  
  
He ducked into his room and changed into his workout clothes, then went down to the control room. Spike had been meaning to practice ever since he got back, but it kept slipping his mind. He wondered just how out of shape he was. He thought out his workout as he stretched. Nothing too strenuous, but enough to get his blood flowing.  
  
Spike fell back into his routine easily. For the first few movements, he focused on keeping his motions as fluid as possible; but then his mind started to drift. Julia. He was always coming back to Julia these days.  
  
He couldn't work out why it didn't hurt like it did the first time he lost her. He waited all day at the graveyard. When she didn't come, he fell to his knees and sobbed. There was no worse feeling than knowing that she was alive somewhere, but that she had abandoned him.  
  
So the Syndicate had thought he was dead. Maybe Julia told them he was. Maybe she even said she killed him, though he didn't think Vicious would have believed that. He took off, met Jet, started a new life. Slowly, the sorrow melted and became just an empty feeling, a hollow where Julia was supposed to be.  
  
Julia. He was slowly starting to get angry at her. Julia had let him spend three years of his life looking for her, while she was probably screwing Vicious the whole time. He'd felt dead for those years, because he was too afraid to feel alive without her. She was the one who'd sucked him into this whole mess, who had really convinced him that they belonged together. He'd built his whole existence around this great mythos, this clichéd tragedy, and now it was gone. The cycle had completed itself without him. Julia never planned for that, what would happen if they didn't end up together. She'd left him with nothing. He'd cut all his ties to his life before her. He'd even changed his name, for Christ's sake.  
  
And now all he had was Jet and Faye. Faye, who he'd ignored when he wasn't being downright hostile to her. Faye, who didn't really want anything but some money and someone to belong to. Faye, who loved him enough to try to stop him from meeting Vicious. He'd been so blind for all this time, blinded by Julia, yet she still loved him.  
  
Faye appeared at the doorway. "Spike, dinner's ready," she said. He didn't appear to hear her, he just kept on. "Hey, you with the fuzzy hair!"  
  
Spike stopped dead, walked over, and kissed Faye full on the mouth. He kissed her because she wasn't ever going to run out on him, betray him, lie to him, was never going to hurt him on purpose. He kissed her because she didn't have blonde hair or own a catsuit. He kissed her because she hated Vicious. He was probably kissing her so hard that he was bruising her right now, but he didn't care. He was feeling something, just to prove to Julia and Vicious and whoever the hell else that he could feel something without them.  
  
Spike pulled back. "Do you like roses?" he asked.  
  
Faye gave him a look of great confusion. "No, they remind me of old women," she replied, sounding utterly lost.  
  
Then he kissed her again, just because she was Faye. 


	6. Right Place, Wrong Time

A/N: I'd just like to say thanks again to all my reviewers. You guys rock. This chapter may seem a little odd and out of place, cause the next chapter is really the other half of it, wherein I finally get into Faye mode. Hurrah!  
  
-  
  
He had a headache.  
  
He didn't get normal headaches. It was rare that he got them at all, and when he did, they were usually of the "Oh sweet mother of God, you have done messed up now, Spike Spiegel" variety.  
  
The lukewarm water from the shower was soothing, but it wasn't helping his head. Why had he done that? It was stupid. Completely idiotic. How could he do that?  
  
He'd never been angry with Julia. Never, not even when she didn't show at the graveyard. Except tonight. It had made so much sense then, but now, it seemed so wrong, like an affront to her memory.  
  
And he wasn't being fair to Faye. He was just using her to get back at Julia and Vicious, who were far beyond his reach now. But dammit, what about that second time? What was that? All she wanted to do was love him, and, he had to admit, he wanted to let her. But not now, not just yet. He needed time to think, to decide where he was going in all of this. Then, perhaps. But now... right now, he'd just be using her. And she didn't deserve that.  
  
He toweled off quickly and threw on his suit, then walked down to the living area. Dinner was... interesting, to say the very least. Jet kept trying to start conversation, which didn't work. Faye wouldn't look at him. When Jet dropped his chopstick, Spike jumped a foot in his chair.  
  
Faye finished her dinner first and headed off towards her room. Spike followed her movements carefully, though he wasn't quite sure what he was looking for. He didn't noticed Jet watching him.  
  
"What the hell's gotten into you two?" Jet asked, half grumbling, half concerned.  
  
Spike was caught off guard, which didn't happen often. "Er, it's nothing. Really." He was acting like a twelve-year-old girl. Great.  
  
Jet sighed. "I'm going to go talk to the bonsai," he told Spike. "Maybe they'll tell me what's really going on."  
  
Since Jet had already called the bansai, Spike decided on consulting the ceiling in his room. Maybe it had some answers.  
  
-  
  
There was a knock on the door some time later. "Come in," said Spike, not meaning it.  
  
Faye stepped through the doorway. She walked in without so much as a word, climbed on top of him, and started kissing him. _Oh no, please, no, why this, why now?_ Spike thought. _Why is it always when I'm trying to do the right thing?_ He pulled away from her. "Faye, I-" he started to protest. But she put her finger to his lips, and with her free hand, she unfastened her shirt.  
  
He wanted her desperately. Her hands were working down his body, pulling back his jacket. How long had it been? Now they were sliding down, popping his shirt buttons open one by one. A voice in his head kept whispering, "You can't Spike. You can't do this to her." He silently urged it to go right to hell. Her hands kept moving downwards...  
  
Spike's resolve won out. He pushed her back, a little more roughly than he intended.  
  
He'd have given anything, anything in the world not to have to see that expression on her face. She looked as if her whole world was about to crumble. But she still wasn't saying anything. Jesus Christ, why wouldn't she say something? Why couldn't he say something, anything?  
  
She fastened her shirt and walked out of his room, half-heartedly slamming the door behind her. Spike sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his temples. Well. That went well. Perhaps he should crash the Redtail and set all her clothes on fire while he was at it.  
  
Spike buttoned his shirt back up. He couldn't just leave her to sulk, if he ever wanted any peace. He got up and walked out of his room, headed towards her door. He was going to have to explain himself, before she started making little Spike voodoo dolls.  
  
Spike was standing in front of her door now. A little nervously, he raised his hand to knock. Dammit, she was probably crying by now. There was nothing worse than a crying woman. But he knocked anyway.  
  
"Faye, are you in there?" he called. "It's me, open up." 


	7. It Could Be Sweet

A/N: I know I suck for leaving this story for a month, especially at such a nasty cliffhanger. Forgive me?

-

She could still feel his mouth on hers, could still taste his kiss, and it was driving her mad.

Faye couldn't look at him during dinner, because she didn't know what she was going to see. Would he smile? Would he look away? She finished and left, not saying a word.

She walked to her room, sat down on her bed and really started to think.

Faye pulled her mind back from the fog that Spike's kiss had cast over her. He couldn't love her. She wasn't ready for him to love her. Faye could love Spike; that was different. She had metabolized that. It was part of her life now, and she could deal with it. But the reverse... No. Too much. Too much right now. Her past had come to nothing, then he'd left, and nearly gotten himself killed, and she'd been at his bedside the entire time he was in that hospital, without so much as a thank you... No. She had a stable, if unhealthy, system going. He didn't love her, and she could be comfortable in that.

But if Spike just wanted her... Oh, now that she could do. Faye smirked at her reflection. That she could do very well. Sex was never an issue to Faye. If her body could help her get out of a tight spot, she didn't hesitate to use it. She probably owed her life to it, several times over. And of course she wanted him. That went without saying. Just thinking about it had kept her up long nights, waiting for him to touch her...

She had to make herself believe that he just wanted sex. Even if that knowledge hurt her more than she really thought it could. It was comfortable, and it was all she had.

So she got ready. Brushed her hair, dabbed a bit of jealously hidden perfume behind her ears, hiked her shorts up just a bit. _One chance_, she repeated to herself. _Just one chance._ Faye slipped out of her boots as she left, leaving them just inside her door.

Faye walked down the hall, the swing in her hips carefully calculated should she meet him early. No sign of Spike. His door was shut. She knocked. His reply was muffled, but it didn't really matter what his response was. She took a deep breath and opened the door.

She crossed the floor, catlike, and in one swift move she was kissing him. He made some weak protest, but she wasn't going to hear it. Faye opened her shirt. There. That should shut him up.

It hurt. Why did it hurt? Because she didn't want it? But she did. Goddammit. Why was this so complicated? She just wanted to give him what he wanted, what she wanted... but she knew it meant giving up. So she kept going, kept unbuttoning his shirt, kept forcing herself to believe that he couldn't love her.

Then he pushed her back. And her beautiful little fallacy failed. She buttoned her shirt and left. As soon as the door shut, Faye ran to her room, her eyes starting to fill with tears. She kicked her boots out of the way, slammed and locked her door, and sank against the door. Faye hugged her knees tight to her chest and sobbed.

What had she done wrong? Did he not want her? Was she wrong about the whole thing? She couldn't think about it anymore. She just sobbed.

There was a knock behind her head. "Faye, are you in there? It's me, open up," said the one voice that she was dying to hear and desperately avoiding.

"Go to hell," she choked out. Great. Now he knew she was crying.

Spike clutched his head. He could feel another headache coming on. "Let me in, Faye," he asked, his voice almost pleading. "I just want to talk to you." _And I'd rather not have Jet hear, thanks, _he didn't add.

"So talk," she answered.

Hell. Spike sighed and sat with his back to the door. "I'm... sorry," he said, trying not to sound forced. "I just... dammit Faye, why can't you just let me in?" To his surprise, the door swung open.

Faye sat on the bed, her eyes red and puffy. And Spike was completely lost. It was a new feeling. He sat down beside her and stared at the floor. "I am sorry," he repeated. "I shouldn't have."

Faye stared hard at him. "But you did. And it really messed me up, and what makes you think you have the right to fuck with a person's mind like that?" she asked him. Now tears were streaming down her face, and she just didn't care anymore.

"Goddamn, Faye!" he practically shouted at her, turning suddenly to look at her. "You don't think this has been hard on me too? I almost died, I lost Julia," Faye flinched visibly at her name, but he continued, "I don't even know what the hell's going on in my head, don't you even try to blame all this on me!" He rested his head in his hand.

She started laughing through her tears. The sound startled Spike. "We're pathetic," she said, the tension releasing in her shoulders. To his own surprise, he started to laugh too. There was a long, uncomfortable pause. "I love you, Spike," Faye told him, her voice flat, defeated.

Spike studied the ceiling. He took a deep breath and slipped his hand into hers. "I... I can't promise you that I can love you, Faye," he said, almost choking up.

Faye nodded. "I understand," she said, wiping her eyes with her free hand. It surprised her when Spike put his arm around her waist and pulled her close. Faye swallowed her tears and put her head on his shoulder.

"So what do we do?" Faye asked him. She felt his shoulders shrug.

"I don't know," Spike answered. "I just don't know." And there they stayed until the sun was almost up.


End file.
